


As Mayflies

by AughtPunk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: All the heroes get together once a month for tea, Aziraphale is a Little Shit, Aziraphale loves humans, Crowley is a Little Shit, Crowley loves humans, Don't worry Newt's fine, Everyone has adopted The Them, Everything is nice and fluffy, F/M, Gen, I don't care if it's not realistic, I got into a weird headspace and wrote this, I just love writing immortals waxing poetic about mortals, I'm not stealing jokes it's an homage, M/M, Musings about life, RIP Sir Pterry, You can't convince me otherwise, everyone became friends, i just, so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 01:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AughtPunk/pseuds/AughtPunk
Summary: Guess who got into a weird headspace and wrote about the musings of an immortal about the beauty of the brief lifespan of mortals while his snake-husband (snusband) plays with kids? THIS FISH THAT'S WHO(Or: Aziraphale and Anathema enjoy a nice spot of tea during a lovely summer day and talk about mortality)





	As Mayflies

“Why are you here?”

Aziraphale looked up from his tea and met Anathema’s steady gaze. There was a gleam in her eyes. One that often appeared in the eyes of humans who have important questions. He placed his cup back down on the saucer and tried to play it cool. “You invited us over for tea, my dear.”

Anathema’s nose twitched. Oh dear. “That is not what I meant and you know it. Why are you here?”

“Ah. Well. You see, Crowley and I were on The Garden’s walls, expecting to be picked up at any moment when suddenly–”

“Aziraphale.” Oh dear oh dear. Aziraphale usually only heard that stern tone in the voice of the upper management. Anathema did remind him a bit of a younger Michael, before The Fall had hardened his heart. “Why are you, an immortal being who has been alive on Earth for millions of years–”

“Six thousand, the Earth’s only six thousand years old.”

That stopped Anathema’s train of thought long enough for Aziraphale to get another sip of tea. It was nice of Anathema to invite him and Crowley over for tea. The weather was absolutely perfect and he was already determined to get Newt’s lavender scone recipe before they left. Crowley had forgone tea and was currently further down the yard playing with Adam and his friends. He wasn’t sure what game they were playing but it seemed to involve chasing after Newt while screaming ‘with milk’ in French. 

Anathema took a deep breath and continued, “You’re an immortal being that’s been around for a very long time, and I imagine now that everything is sorted out you and your husband will be here for much longer.”

Aziraphale’s stomach fluttered at ‘your husband’. He could correct her, be decided not to. “Personally between the two of us I’m hoping for at least another six thousand years. Crowley says two thousand but I do think he’s low-balling it.” 

“So why are you spending time with us mortals?”

Aziraphale was taken aback. Usually when a human sniffed them now (very rarely, the last one had been dear Oscar and all he had been interested in was heavenly gossip. He found it rather hilarious.) their questions were about the afterlife and that sort of thing. “Well dear, as I said before, you did invite us over for tea.”

“But, but we must be nothing to you in the grand scheme of things, right? Your husband mentioned that he once took a seventy year nap! That’s a lifetime! And he spent it in bed! What’s a lifetime to us is a mere boring Sunday afternoon to you. We’re nothing more than mayflies buzzing long your path. The fact that you’ve decided to sit down and have tea with us is nothing short of baffling.”

Across the yard Aziraphale heard the telltale hiss of Crowley turning into a snake. Newt’s loud scream and the cheers of the children confirmed this to the point that he didn’t even bother to look over. “And what do you think we should be doing instead?”

“I dunno. Traveling the world? Exploring the bottom of the sea? Traveling through the stars? Enjoying Earth before it gets taken over by cockroaches? There must be a better use of your time than being here with us.”

Aziraphale smiled, the love in his body pouring out in waves. He did love humanity so much, and Anathema here was a prime example of why. But he knew she wouldn’t accept an answer so simple as that so he instead called out, “Darling!”

“Yessssssssss angel?” Crowley hissed from across the yard. He was playfully wrapped around Newt and the kids and was pretending to crush them to death. Well he knew the kids would be safe at least, Newt’s safety might be a gamble. Crowley untangled himself and slithered over to the pair. 

“Crowley darling, do you remember that winter we spent in the Himalayas?”

One might think it would be impossible for a snake to look ill, yet Crowley somehow managed. “I remember the yak tea. And the yak milk. Yaks. Lots of yaks. Why?”

“What was the name of that dear woman who made us that wonderful Shyakpa? The stew with the hand-pulled noodles?”

“Dawa Yangzum Ssssssherpa.” Crowley nodded his snake head as if double-checking his own memory, “Lovely woman. She gave me her best shawl, said I would need it for the trip down. It’s still in my linen closet somewhere.”

Aziraphale nodded before asking “And when was that, my love?”

Crowley made an odd snake-noise at that nickname but barreled through anyway. “Eleventh, no, twelfth century. Bit after the Normandy invassssion. Any reasssssson?”

“None at all darling, just reminiscing. Oh, and I wanted to distract you long enough for Adam to sneak up on you.”

“Wh–” Crowley was brutally cut off by four children pouncing him at once as Newt cheered in the distance. What followed would no doubt a vicious war of tickling and snake-grappling. Possibly even hugs from the children. Truly a fate worse than death for the Serpent of Eden.

Aziraphale turned back to Anathema and smiled. “You are correct, of course. Human lives are barely a blip on the celestial radar. But you must understand that neither you nor Newt nor the children are mayflies to us. Certainly not bugs of any type. You are the rainbow after the storm. You are the frost before the dawn. You are a wave of ocean foam and the flashes of light sung between fireflies. You are mortal, yes. But you are beautiful. Far more beautiful than the glory of Heaven or the delights of The Garden. And one day far in the future, when London is nothing more than memory engraved on a museum plaque, Crowley and I will look back and think fondly of you all and this wonderful summer day.”

“Oh.” Anathema whispered. Aziraphale became suddenly interested in his cup of tea to give the poor thing a moment to compose herself. A bit of divinity may have slipped out near the end there. She took a hearty swig of tea herself before finally getting out a weak “Thank you.” What she was thankful for she didn’t say. 

Aziraphale smiled, “Think nothing of it at all my dear.”

They watched the children and Newt battle against the suspiciously much-larger snake in silence until Anathema found her voice again. “Wait. If the Earth’s only six thousand years old then what’s the deal with the dinosaurs?”

“Bit of a red herring. Something to throw humans off of our scent while we got everything ready for the end. You know, I knew the angel in charge of placing the fake skeletons in tar pits and such. Wonderful chap. Great sense of humor. Kept putting fancy wrist-watches on dinosaurs and posing them with ‘End Nuclear War’ signs. ”

“Oh?” Anathema asked as if Aziraphale was telling a perfectly normal story about an old coworker and not something that went against all her scientific beliefs. . 

“He did get in trouble with the head office for that, though. I hear Gabriel still grumbles about the amount of paperwork that caused to this day.”

“Was Gabriel the prick at the end of the world?”

“Oh yes.”

“And the um, fly-person?”

“Beelzebub. Crowley’s old boss.”

“Ah. That explains the flies.” 

Aziraphale soaked in the moment. The warmth of the tea, the crumbs of the scones, the sound of children’s laughter and his sorta-husband’s fake scary hisses as he pretended to eat Newt. In his mind he traced every petal of every flower and every sweet gust of wind that blew by. He would remember that tea party along with all the other tea parties Anathema would invite him and Crowley to. He’ll remember them long after the Earth has settled into silence and he and Crowley leave to explore the stars. But that was later. This infinitesimal moment of wonder was now.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Your husband isn’t really going to kill and eat Newt, is he?”

“He better not. I still need that scone recipe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for your kudos, your comments, and your encouragement! 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing please check out my other fics or head to [my website](https://aughtpunk.com/want-to-help-out/) for information on my non-fic writing and how to help me out. 
> 
> Be sure to tag me as @AughtPunk on [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/aughtpunk) [Tumblr,](http://aughtpunk.tumblr.com) or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/AughtPunk) if you want to say hi, or ever make any fan content of my work. No need to ask permission, art and fic is always welcomed!
> 
> \- Fish


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